So,
you know that feeling you get when you look in the
mirror and there's that row of cop lights on the
car right behind you and you look down at your
speedometer and see you're doing 44mph but you
don't really know what the speed limit is on this
street so you try and look all nonchalant and not
hit the breaks or anything because that would just
be like admitting you knew you were speeding and
he'd pull you over for sure and right about then
the lights all come on spinning and blinking so
you start pulling over but now the sirens scream
on and you jerk even more upright in your seat
because now he's on your bumper and you swear that
those mirrored sunglasses of his show the
reflection of your license plate, reversed and
restored by two mirrors now and fully readable,
and just as you're actually able to wiggle your
car over to a semi-safe stop, only scuffing the
curb with your tires a little, he guns his engine
even louder and jerks over to the left and blasts
past you and out of sight?

And when you
remember it's the bathroom mirror you know it's
time to go back to bed.

Yeah, Saturday morning is the wrong time
to recall that while tequila may be your
friend on Friday night, it is the kind of
friend that still enjoys pulling shit on you..